I'll Bring You To Your Knees
by letodian-peony
Summary: Devil May Cry is as busy as usual, and Dante is out fighting demons on a bounty. Lady stays home, and decides to try something she had never done before. Rated M for future chapters. Pairing: Lady/Dante
1. Discovery

_I'll Bring You To Your Knees_

[AN] This chapter is told in Lady's point of view. If you like it, please review!  
[Disclaimer] I do not make a profit off of this, nor do I own the characters or franchise.

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It was quiet in the office today. It was becoming more frequent for the building's owner to be out hunting vile creatures from the underworld. The building started to reek of sand and decaying blood, the waste basket near the mahogany desk full of old bandages covered in the crimson liquid.

"That's disgusting." She mumbled softly. Holding her nose, for the bandages reeked of demon, a smell she was still unaccustomed to smelling, and carried the basket out to the dumpster and threw its contents to scatter among the other debris inside the metal container. "God, that smells worse." She commented, coughing a bit at the smell burning the inside of her nose.

She walked back into the office and to the room that had been redesigned into a bedroom, really only to be considered so because of the bed that sat in the middle of the room. Other than that obvious point, the room was basically empty, save for a small nightstand which was a few feet from the right side of the bed. Always the right, never the left. His strange habits never seemed to fail at making her smile.

There was a single closet in the room, which, under normal circumstances could barely fit a male wardrobe, but, in their case, held a man's and a woman's, since she had moved in (and Trish moved out). He really only wore that coat and pants, not much room needed there, and her clothing was pretty small, and tended to take up very little space. All her items were in a small dresser wedged into the closet that she brought from home. The dresser had been her mother's; it was the only thing her father hadn't destroyed when he went on the murderous rampage that eventually took her mother's life.

It always amused her why her dresser was in the closet; to be honest, she really didn't understand why, something about Dante's aversion to change, or maybe he was claustrophobic. She briefly considered that possibility and laughed as she fished through her dresser drawers, looking for something Trish had given to her as a joke sometime before she had left.

The drawers were still unorganized from when that half-devil had gone through them, looking for god-knows-what, and he still has the bruise on his arm from when she threw her gun at him.

She eventually found what she was looking for.

She had never been the kind of woman who even considered _buying_ lingerie, let alone_ wear_ it. The fabric was always cold and sheer, and she just felt overly exposed. Of course, her daily wardrobe barely left room for imagination, but everything was covered and she was really careful about it remaining that way.

So, as she looked over the black lace and ribbon and sheer fabric a cold shiver ran up her spine. A demon? No problem. Trying to look sexy? Big problem. It's not that she was self-conscious; in fact, she was proud of her body and the shape she kept it in. It was those eyes, _his_ eyes, on that body that made her nervous enough to jump out of her skin. But she wasn't going to play victim, or deer-in-the-headlights. A woman didn't wear this kind of thing to sit there submissive. No.

The second she slips that on, she'll be the only person in the world able to overpower him, control him, and she's going to love every second of it.


	2. Stunning

It was a long day, and he could feel his jacket irritate another gash in his arm. He threw open the door to his shop, newly renovated after its most recent attack by a group of demons. His blood still boils a little in his veins when he thinks about how his juke box was destroyed, and he had spent nearly a fortune to get the damned thing fixed.

He flopped into his leather chair and pulled open the top drawer, digging around in the unorganized mess for the ace bandages he kept in there. He swore at how much difficulty he was having but eventually, he got the bandage over the bloody mess.

Leaning back in the chair he closed his eyes, sighing, still a little worn out from the fight and not having eaten in about twelve hours. He listened to the rundown building creak and groan in the wind that beat the bricks on the outside when he heard a door open.

Suddenly, he was very alert, thinking of only one thing: Lady. She had been out when he got the call, and told him to go without her. He couldn't help but think a demon had gotten her while he was out, but he stalled, realizing that Lady could hold her own. She wasn't as strong as he was, but she was resourceful.

Still, he was curious as to what had created the sound.

"Hey, Lady?" He called, not getting out of his chair. He still wasn't used to living with her; she didn't traipse around like Trish, making sure you knew where she was every minute. Lady was an entirely different kind of woman, and that's what he loved about her. "Lady?" He repeated when she didn't answer. He hauled himself out of the chair when she didn't respond the second time, and he climbed the stairs where the bedroom was, which is where he heard the noise come from.

However, when he opened the door, he could help but stare, his mouth hanging open.

"Wow…" He mumbled stupidly, his eyes drinking in every detail. He momentarily took in the sly smile that spread across her lips before his eyes trailed lower. Much lower.

He almost couldn't believe his eyes, and thought that maybe he was dreaming. Or that he had died during the fight, and this was the Heaven he was brought to. In any case, he was loving it.

She was sitting at the foot of the bed, legs crossed, and she was just watching him with these beautifully intense eyes. The passion in them was easily readable, and he was frozen where he was standing in the doorway. The sheer fabric clung to her skin, and he let his eyes trace the lines of her body, easily visible through the garment. Not unlike any man on the face of the planet, his eyes were captivated by her breasts. Although she wasn't naked, she might as well have been; the black lace definitely wasn't meant to hide anything. He was gawking; he knew he was. Maybe even drooling.

When it was made apparent that he was unable to move, Lady stood up, and he felt his mouth drop a little more. All there was to cover her was that sheer garment. He has never seen her so beautiful, so sexy, and he felt his breath hitch.

She approached him silently, fluidly. He watched her hips sway, and the movement of the fabric as she took each step she took, and became painfully aware of how hot his body was getting and how uncomfortable his pants were.


	3. Tease

She couldn't help but smile devilishly as she approached him. She was very aware of how she looked; just minutes before, she had checked herself in the bathroom mirror. Even she was surprised at how sexy she looked.

Her confidence flared as he continued to stand, stunned, in the doorway. She slowed her movements even more as she got closer until they were face to face. Without her boots, their height difference was more pronounced, but she found that this would work far better. She had no intention of letting this be easy for him.

She pressed her palms against his chest. The haphazardly applied bandage indicated the reason his jacket was missing. She splayed her fingers over the taut skin, feeling the heat emanating off of him seeping into her hands. She slowly slid her fingers down his chest and hooked her fingers into his belt loops and pulled him forward. She laughed quietly when he stumbled a bit, still staring at her as if she were about to disappear if he looked away.

She suddenly pushed him backwards into a chair she had moved into their bedroom just for today. By now, he was starting to come out of his shell-shock and looked up to her face with a sheepish smile across his. She straddled and, leaning in, she kissed him softly, something she rarely did, and again, he was just putty for her. She loved this power she had.

While he was distracted, she pulled his hands through the bars of the chair and cuffed his wrists together. She was definitely not going to make this easy for him, and she wanted _complete_ control.

She suddenly bit his lip to wake him up a little. He groaned at the sharp pain and leaned into her more. She backed off of him and fell back onto the edge of the bed. He lent forward, and that was when he noticed the cuffs and the steel chair.

"What the-?" He stated, looking at her, sitting comfortably not even two feet from him. On any other day, he could bend those bars, break those cuffs, but she could see his arms trembling slightly, and knew how distracted his mind was. All the power in the world was useless if you couldn't think straight long enough to use it. She wondered how long it would take him to beg. She thought of how much she wanted to hear it.

Soundlessly she was behind him, her hands gripping his shoulders, her lips at his ear. She bit gently down on the half-devil's ear as her nails started to dig into his skin. He shuddered slightly and his eyes fell closed. Her hands slipped a little farther down and her lips found his pulse in his neck. She loved how it rushed past her lips, how she felt it sped when her fingernails scratched red marks onto his chest. He let his head fall back onto the arch of the chair and his ice blue eyes found her mismatched ones, lust clear in his eyes. Again, her sly smile danced across her face, but this time, she knelt before him, her lips now pressed against the abs of his stomach, her fingers tracing feather-light patterns on his thighs.

She was driving him insane and was loving every second of it.


	4. Loophole

Her lips were on fire, and it was almost unbearable. And it was all so slow, _too_ slow. He wanted to grab her, to run his calloused hands over her milky skin, but they were caught behind his back and he couldn't think straight long enough to get himself out of the cuffs. He felt like he was going to go crazy.

When her molten lips connected with the cold skin of his stomach, his breath hitched, again, and he slowly dragged in a ragged breath as her heat spread over his skin, crawling in every direction. When her long fingernails lightly fluttered over his thighs, he shivered. Visibly. And she noticed.

She brought her lips lower, but not low enough, no, not for him, and her fingers brushed the leather on the inside of his thigh, and he sucked in a deep breath to keep from shuddering, even though he felt the sensation shoot up his spine like electricity. She was close, too close, but not close enough. This wasn't close enough. He needed more, and he needed it now.

Was she going to make him beg? He could feel his body seconds away from commanding him to, but he was never going to let her win easily; that wasn't how their game worked. Or had she found a loophole?

Her tongue slipped from between her lips and slowly traced a path from his belly button to the waistband of his pants. Oh god, she had found a loophole.

He felt absolutely powerless for the first time in his life. He knew what wanted, no, _needed_, but he couldn't feel any part of his body except where she was touching him. Everything else was numb and jealous and craved her touch. His arms were trembling in their bonds, an act of desperation, as if he could shake them off so he could grab her.

But they were playing a game, and she was winning. But he was still playing and wasn't about to go down without a fight.

He just needed the right opportunity.

Their game didn't feel right when he didn't hold all the cards; he didn't feel like himself, but god, did he love what she was doing to him.

His mind, however, slammed on the brakes as the palm of her hand drifted over the area that craved her attention more than any other part of his body. He wanted to roll his hips further into her molten touch, but she held him down, her fingers gripping his hipbone. The groan of desperation and need that poured from his throat surprised even himself, and as she laughed lightly, her warm breath spilled over him and every muscle in his arms tightened, trying to find away out of his binds.

She added pressure to her touch, and his strength evaporated. He growled in need, unable to endure her teasing anymore. She rolled the palm of her hand pressed to the tightening in his pants and he groaned, throwing his head back.

"How long… are you going to… do this to me?" He asked, gasping for air as his arousal grew to the point where he was barely able to stand it. She lifted herself off her knees, bringing her lips to his ear, though her hand remained where it was.

"Until you beg me." She whispered tauntingly, using her nails to scrape the leather gently. He moaned and considered begging for the briefest of seconds.

But, no, she can't win that easily. But, yet, his pride was at odds with his body, and his pride was starting to lose.

"Lady…" He moaned as her fingers pressed into him.


	5. Perfect, so perfect

It was all playing out beautifully, but the longer she drew it out, the harder it became for even her to not drop her little game to do exactly what both of them wanted. No, it was more fun this way. Much more fun this way. The noises she was drawing from him were amazing, and she would hate for them to stop.

"Come on, demon." She whispered into his ear, using the name she had called them when they had first met. "Beg me." This time, her words poured like honey from her mouth, a sickening sweetness, but with an edge that struck deep, just where she knew it would. She predicted his response before he even said it, but she also predicted that soon he would give in, and she was satisfied to let him play his game until he couldn't stand it; the point where his begging would be its most desperate, and its most sexy. Her knees wanted to give in at that very thought, but she hid the impulse well.

"You know I won't." He replied, tilting his lips toward her ear. She smiled slyly and used her free hand to wrap her fingers in his hair to pull his head back. Her lips pressed to the skin behind his ear when she whispered her response.

"Have it your way…"

She bit the skin her lips had just brushed across, running her tongue over the sore spot, smiling as he leaned into her mouth. She heard the clang of the cuffs coming in contact with the bars of the chair.

"Well, we can't have that." She purred, again rolling her palm against his erection through the leather. His arms fell limp as he arched into her touch. This was perfect, so perfect. She could only imagine what will happen when she lets him go. She kissed his neck, dragging her teeth across his pulse as a shiver ran through her at the thought. Perfect, so perfect.

She dragged her tongue down his neck to his collarbone, where she bit him again, sucking on the wound, watching as the blood rose to the surface, leaving an obvious mark. Her tongue dropped lower, finding his nipple. She flicked her tongue over the hardening flesh drawing another moan from him. She bit down on it, and ran her tongue over it again, and loved when he whimpered, even as he tried to cut the sound off, she knew she was winning.

"You ready to beg yet?" She said, breathlessly, sex dripping off her voice, her mouth still hovering over his abuse nipple. She blew at the nub, smirking, knowing how cold that breath was. When she looked up at him, she saw a faint defiance in his eyes. "Still playing are we?" She asked, her voice still hopelessly sexy. She kissed him softly, nipping at his lower lip, catching it between her teeth as her fingers deftly undid the button and zipper of his leather pants, releasing him a little from the confines of those tight pants. She felt him gasp and sign against her lips. But his kiss was more eager than ever. Her hand fell lightly onto his erection, slowly dragging the tip of her index finger among the length of the sensitive shaft, still encased in the fabric of his boxers, reveling in the half growl, half moan that she ripped from his throat.

She knew that soon he would beg her; she could feel his wavering rebelliousness. Underneath her fingers, she knew how much he wanted to give up, in spite of his pride, which is what has truly been torturing him. She locked her eyes with his, intense lust shimmering in the ice blue, so hot they should melt. Running her finger over him again, she watched as his eyes started to glaze over; she could see her own reflection in his eyes clearly now, and damn, she looked good.

"You ready yet?" She asked her question again, her teasing touch becoming lighter, feather-light and slow. She watched his head fall back at her touch. She drew one last moan from him before moving away from him, to fall gracefully back to the edge of the bed. "It doesn't seem like you want this," she stated, a smile on her lips, feigning indifference, running her fingers over her bare collarbone, slowly, knowing that he was watching her. He groaned in need and desperation, and the end was close, dangerously close, and it was all so perfect.


	6. Smoldering

This was the worst. It was so encompassing that he felt nothing else existed but her, and he loved it, but at the same time, every part of his body ached and it was like she exuded some kind of force where every cell was being pulled toward her.

He thought her hands all over his skin would be the end of him, but it was their absence that eventually broke him.

"What happens to me if I give in?" He asked, his eyes trying to hold hers in his usual cocky glare, however he could feel the desperation that leaked in to his stare. At first she didn't say anything. She just smiled at him, eyes half-closed, sex glowing in her mismatched irises. The hand resting on her thigh slowly crept up the perfect skin, dragging the sheer fabric with it, revealing more of her leg and his stomach knotted in need. He needed her. Right now.

He was mesmerized more deeply with each centimeter of skin exposed and exhaled deeply in frustration when she stopped just short.

"What happens?" He asked again, growling a bit, though his voice was wavering a little as he watched her hands where they touched her skin.

"That depends." She stated flatly, a devious smile on her lips. She ran her fingers through her hair, and he found that undeniably sexy, watching her lithe fingers, wishing they were doing something else.

"On?" He urged. He was shaking, he could feel the muscles in his tightening as a fire started to burn in his stomach, a fire she started and left to burn. He leaned forward in the chair, though the cuffs prevented him from moving far.

He bit down on his tongue to stop words of surrender from escaping his mouth as her fingertips drifted across her chest. Even her breathing was sexy. He bit down harder on his tongue.

She leaned back on her hands, her back arching a bit, her heterochromatic eyes still locked with his. The way her arms were positioned, shoulder blades touching, it pushed her chest forward. A seemingly innocent posture, but in the thin lace that barely covered her already, the strain on the fabric pronounced the curves of her body all the more prominently.

"Lady." He gasped her name, his lungs trying to find air. She dropped her head back when he uttered her name, exposing her neck, beautiful white skin that seemed to scream to him to mark up, to break the paleness with his teeth and lips, to leave deep red spots on her to show how she was his. Everything in his body tensed as need battled with pride, arousal with dignity.

"Hmm?" The sound was deep, sultry, sexy, and it fanned the flames in the pit of his stomach, in his groin. His eyes hungrily followed the lines of her body again and again, from the line of her jaw, the curve of her breasts, her thin, toned waist, her wide hips, her delicate thighs, all the way down to the tips of her toes. He longed to tear that thin piece of lace off her body.

"I give up." He whispered breathlessly, his voice full of desire.

"Do you?" She asked furtively. He watched as she pushed herself off the bed and knelt before him, her hands on his thighs, fingers dangerously close, looking up into his face.

"You win this time, Lady." He responded, his breathing coming hard and uneven when he tried to tear himself from all the desperate thoughts rushing through his mind to be able to find the words she was looking for him to say.

Her hands slid up his body, along the underside of his arms to where his hands were bound behind his back. But she stopped there, fingers lingering on the metal. She lifted herself to where he lips were level with his ear.

"Are you ready for what comes next?" Her words were soft, almost soundless. He couldn't focus. She licked the shell of his ear, and he was drowning in the heat. Something clicked behind him and something metallic fell to the hardwood floor, but he was too engrossed in the feeling of her lips on the sensitive skin behind his ear to notice what had fallen until he felt her hands slip up his sides to touch his neck, his own hands following hers, gliding over her arms and around her back, pulling her closer.

He ran his fingers through her hair, using his grip to move her face and press his lips to hers hungrily. Her tongue ran along his bottom lip and her opened his mouth to draw her in, moaning as her tongue, as teasing as her fingers, battled with his tongue.

He would have loved to kiss her for hours, but the fire raging inside him was too consuming, too hot, and he couldn't take it for much longer.


End file.
